


After 01x03 (The Two Horse Job)

by PseudoLeigha



Series: (More) 2AM Conversations [3]
Category: Leverage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:32:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoLeigha/pseuds/PseudoLeigha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate and Eliot discuss Sterling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After 01x03 (The Two Horse Job)

Two days after the team returned to Los Angeles from Kentucky, about half an hour shy of last call, Eliot Spencer wandered into Nate’s mostly-empty local. He looked, Nate thought, like a man on a mission, so it was little surprise when he took the stool next to Nate’s and ordered a beer.

It was, perhaps, surprising that he waited until he was nearly finished with his beer to say anything. Nate had time, in the meanwhile, to finish his drink and order another, the last one of the night, he told himself. That too, was nearly gone, when Eliot finally said, “Tell me about James Sterling.”

“He’s a fucking shameless, self-serving bastard. What about him?” Nate answered, the alcohol numbing his surprise at the fact the hitter, of all people, was the one who chose to ask about Sterling.

It was pretty clear that there was more to Eliot than met the eye. Nate knew hardly anything about his past other than what they had learned in Kentucky, and, of course, the man’s reputation as the most effective retrieval specialist currently in the business. His expertise and ability to work with a team (even the Leverage team) spoke of a military background, and possibly less-than-official applications of the skills he learned there (honorably discharged soldiers didn’t often become world-class thieves). Nate wouldn’t be surprised if he had gone into a PMC after he left whichever branch of the armed forces he was in, doing some time as a mercenary before moving on to his current line of work. The fact that he didn’t use guns was intriguing, and Nate didn’t know what to make of it. PTSD, maybe? But if so, he was surprisingly functional. No amount of violence on the job or even Parker irritating him between jobs seemed to get to him, not really. Nate suspected it would be a deadly mistake to underestimate the younger man’s intelligence or abilities, but he knew he still did not have the full measure of him, because things like this could still take him aback.

“You know him,” Eliot observed mildly. “Is he gonna be a problem for us?”

“Yeah,” Nate said, thinking aloud. “I know him. We used to be friends. Well, as close as Sterling has to friends. But then he backed Blackpoole and his fucking ‘no experimental procedures’ policy, and took the promotion they handed him when I left, and hung me out to dry. Bastard.” He finished his drink and ordered another.

“And?”

“And what?”

“ _And_ is he gonna be a problem? He’s good, Nate. I wanna hear you say you’re better.”

“I am better,” Nate insisted. “I always was. He’s more stubborn, maybe, but I’m smarter.”

“And humble, too,” Eliot smirked.

“Hey, I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

The younger man smiled at him almost sadly. “I don’t believe you.” Nate raised a questioning eyebrow. “You really do think you’re smarter than him. It’s not just ‘cause I told you what I wanted to hear. But I’m not sure you’re better.”

Nate fought to keep his cool. “Oh?”

“Yeah. See, the way I see it, you mighta been smarter than him when you were both workin’ for IYS, when you were both at the top of your game, both hunters, but you’re not anymore.”

“Hey!” Nate started to protest, but Eliot cut him off.

“I’m not makin’ any judgements on how you’re runnin’ the crew, or debatin’ whether you’re capable or whatever you’re thinkin’. Calm your damn self down. This is a legitimate concern. Even if you weren’t, well,” he nodded at Nate’s whisky, “your position, our position, is less secure, now that we’re settled. You ain’t been doin’ this full-time team thing that long, but you gotta see it’s the sorta setup where you gotta be six steps ahead, at the top of your game, or you’re gonna lose. See, with a base of operations, less mobile, less flexibility, you gotta be on guard all the time. Sterling, or the feds, or whatever millionaire we piss off next, all they have to do is get a hook in one of us, and the whole operation comes down, and we’re automatically vulnerable, with people knowin’ who we are and what we do, an’ even how to find us. Fuckin’ offices? That’s just askin’ to be bombed or somethin’.”

Nate had begun to calm down around the time Eliot started talking about defensive strategy, which was when he realized this truly wasn’t an attempt to undermine his authority, but… “Bombing the offices? Really?” That just seemed absurd.

“I got enemies, Nate,” the younger man said seriously. “You and Sophie got enemies. So does Parker, even if they don’t know her face. If it gets out she’s workin’ with us, they count. We’re makin’ more every day, an’ if you think the millionaires we’re rippin’ off are any less cutthroat than street thugs, you’re wrong. Then there’s other thieves who’d try to take us down as competition, because we _are_ the best, and that’s just the ones that actually might want to _kill_ us. There’s at least as many or more who would gladly see us rotting in prison for the rest of our lives, from the IRS to the FBI. If _any_ of them get a handle on us, they all do. So I’m gonna ask you again: Is James Sterling gonna be a problem?”

Nate considered it again (really, this time). James was a chess player, like Nate himself, and if Nate was honest, he might be a little better than Nate at the game. He was a stubborn bastard who always, always got his man. And so far as Nate was concerned, James lacked any sort of moral compass whatsoever, more concerned with doing his job than doing what was right. But he was, above all, self-serving. He had just profited from the team’s actions in a major way, and there was little chance that James would try to take down anyone who was still useful to him. He might try to _use_ them, but Nate was confident that he could spot any such attempt, and turn it to their advantage, or at least a mutually beneficial conclusion, because no matter how good James was at strategy, Nate was, and had always been, better at thinking on his feet. After several minutes he said with finality, “No. James Sterling will not be a problem.”

“I hope you’re right about that, Nate,” Eliot said, slipping off his stool. “Oh, and Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“I want a list.”

“A list of what?”

“Anyone who might be.” He was gone before Nate could process that request, exchanging a few words and a smile with the bartender as he went.

Nate mulled over their conversation as he walked home that night. _Protectiveness_ , he thought, adding it to his mental file on the retrieval specialist. That was one of the things he had been missing. Whether out of professional interest (covering his own and his partners’ backs) or personal (could Eliot Spencer actually care about people?) Eliot took the safety of his team, apparently, far more seriously than Nate had expected. He was certain there was still more to the younger man, but it reassured him, made him feel just a little bit safer, to know that the most dangerous man he knew was looking out for him, even if he didn’t know why.


End file.
